Matt's Choice
by the lurker
Summary: When a formidable outlaw tries to get to Matt through those closest to him, the marshall finds himself presented with an impossible choice.
1. Chapter 1

GUNSMOKE

"Matt's Choice"

He watched the old man amble up Front street with detached interest. The doctor slipped through the doors of the Longbranch and disappeared. Rand had heard that the surgeon liked a good drink and for a moment he considered the obvious angle, but then shrugged; trying to get the old codger drunk and pliable in a saloon wasn't a solid plan. Men like that almost never became inebriated in public, and Rand decided that Doc Adams was far more likely to drink away his pain alone - and men like him always had deep pain. Rand lit a cigar and puffed on it. Perhaps the best way to deal with the doctor was directly. After all, Rand was a much larger man, and how much of a fight could one little old man give him?

* * *

His back smashed into the glass of the medicine cabinet as the old doctor continued to struggle against him in the dark of the office. 

Rand's voice was strained with effort, "I was told not ta hurtcha none ya danged old coot, but if you keep puttin' up a fight, I'm gonna have to..."

The hand clamped tightly over his mouth kept Galen Adams from responding, so he did the only thing available to him: he elbowed the man hard in the ribs. Rand grunted in pain and instinctively reached for his midsection. Adams took advantage of the reaction and with all his might tried to rip his assailant's other hand from his mouth, but Rand quickly put his arm around Doc's throat in a stranglehold, and placed his knife at the base of the large artery there. Adams stopped moving when he felt the tiny prick of the knife point in his flesh. The outlaw leaned in close to Doc's ear.

"Now you listen to me, old man, I can take you still breathin' or I can take you dead as a skinned buffalo. At this point it'd be easier for me to just kill you and be done with it. Timmonds don't need you alive to get that Marshall to come after ya, so long's as he thinks he has a chance to save your sorry skin."

Doc's timbre was tight from the pressure at his throat, "Go ahead and gut me like a fish then... Marshall of this town don't care none."

"Lyin' don't become an old man like you..."

Adams struggled against the increasing pressure around his windpipe. "How'd you know what becomes a man anyway? You'd have to be one first."

Rand shook his head as he painfully tightened his grip around Doc's throat. "I heard you was feisty, but you're about the sourest old goat I ever come across." He began moving Adams toward the door. "Now you just come on and don't make no more fussin'..."

As they moved by the desk, Adams grabbed a book end and tried to smash Rand's head with it. The outlaw easily moved out of the way, raking the knife across Doc's throat, cutting him deeply enough to bleed heavily, but not enough to kill him. Adams leaned against his chair in pain, and Rand roughly grabbed him.

"Let's go, old man."

Adams' voice was hoarse from the stress, "You cut me deep, I gotta stop this bleedin'..."

"I mean now, Doc. I ain't puttin' up with no more of your tricks."

Slightly woozy from the immediate blood loss, Doc groaned and was slow to move. Tired of the bothersome doctor, Rand slugged him hard over the head, ending any further trouble. The outlaw heaved the smaller man over his shoulder and left the office, unaware of the trail of blood he was leaving behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Matt swallowed down the nausea rising in his throat as he stared at the bloody path leading from Doc's desk to the door and beyond.

"Mr. Dillon?" Matt looked into the deep brown eyes staring at him with palpable fear. "You don't think that's Doc's blood, do ya?" 

The tall marshall's eyes glossed over momentarily, then he stared hard into his friend's face. "I don't know what else to think, Chester. Look at this place... glass on the floor from the smashed medicine cabinet, the door's been forced, no sign of Doc, and all this blood..." Dillon swallowed hard and looked away, his voice turning soft. "He wouldn't have left this place looking like this, no matter what." Matt walked over to the standing coat rack by the door, and fingered the suit jacket and the black hat on it. "And he wouldn't have left these here either if he had left of his own accord."

"Oh my goodness, Mr. Dillon, there's an awful lot of blood, ain't there?"

"Too much to think that Doc's okay, that's for sure."

Chester fought off his rising emotions and gritted his teeth. "I'll saddle up the horses and meet you in front of the office."

Dillon smiled gratefully. "I'll be there directly, Chester, thanks."

Goode limped out and Matt bent down and ran a finger through the blood; it wasn't completely dried, which meant it hadn't happened that long ago, and there was a chance Doc was still alive. He felt her presence before he saw her in the door, her hand over her mouth in alarm. Dillon quickly stood and went to her.

"Kitty, you shouldn't be here."

"Where's Doc?" Her blue eyes tore at his heart with their cold fear. "Please tell me what's happened to him?"

He held her gently by the arms. "I don't know yet, Kitty, except that it looks like he was taken against his will."

Kitty's eyes strayed down to the blood streaked across the floor in horror. "Is it his blood?"

Sensing that her emotions might get the best of her, Matt gently walked her out onto the landing of Doc's front door. "I think it is, yes."

She turned to him. "Oh Matt, you don't think he's--"

"--No. No, I don't think that." He couldn't bring himself to say the word, and he looked down at his scuffed boots. "I can't think that, and neither can you."

"You've got to find him, Matt."

He looked up at her then. "I will, Kitty, I promise you that."

Dillon started to leave but she grabbed his arm. "Bring him back safe, Matt, please."

All the marshall of Dodge could do was silently nod and then turn toward the street. The thought that Doc Adams might not come home was too much for him to bear. Kitty watched him walk down the stairs and then disappear around the corner before she allowed her tears to overtake her.


	3. Chapter 3

Timmonds spat out his tobacco on the ground near his captive's head. "You done him good, Rand, but I told you not to hurt him."

Rand shrugged, "Who cares if the old goat dies, it's not like Dillon's gonna know until it's too late."

Timmonds grabbed Rand's lapel, pulling the man into himself. "The whole point was makin' him watch the old man die knowin' I was the one that done it."

Rand squirmed slightly. "All right, Timmonds, I got a little rough, but that old rooster ain't as easy as he looks."

Timmonds spit once again. "Sure he ain't. He's an old man, how much trouble could he have been?" Rand wisely chose to keep his mouth shut, and Timmonds continued, "To top all, you let him drip blood all down his saddle and onto the ground leavin' Dillon a clear trail."

"I don't see what difference it makes, Timmonds, you want him to find us anyway..."

Timmonds shoved the man away. "When I choose the time, Rand. And the time ain't yet."

Rand looked over at the pale man on the ground. "Well it don't look like he's got a lotta time left, so's maybe we better let Dillon find us."

"It'd take two of you to be simple-minded, you know that?" Timmonds began to pace, thinking, then he turned back to Rand as a small smile lit his lips. "You know, this might've worked out better at that... I want you to go on back to Dodge and get me Dillon's woman."

"We don't need her, we got the doc..."

Timmonds bellowed. "I don't pay you to think, Rand, I pay you to do what I say. Go back to Dodge and bring the woman to Bent Creek. Marlowe, Rolley and me'll head to the cabin there. And Rand, don't leave a trail. I want it to take a little while for Dillon to find us." His eyes looked over at Adams' still figure. "I need a little time to fix up the doc a mite."

Rand shook his head as he walked toward his horse. "Don't make no nevermind to me, but I don't understand what difference none of this makes..."

Rand hopped into the saddle and took off at a good canter. If he took the back trail, he'd be back to Dodge by nightfall.

* * *

The sun was setting by the time Chester and Matt found the remnants of the camp. Dillon knelt by the blood-soaked earth, and felt his stomach leap into his mouth.

"Mr. Dillon, if he weren't still alive, they woulda just left him here, ya know. The fact that he ain't here's a good sign."

Matt's eyes looked up into the sincere face, and he nodded. "You're right, Chester." He looked back down at the blood. "But if anything happens to him..."

Dillon let the thought go unfinished, but then, he didn't have to put the sentiment into words. 

Chester's voice was filled with understanding, "Me too, Mr. Dillon."

Matt stood up and placed a hand on Goode's shoulder. "Come on Chester, let's see if we can pick up a trail before it gets too cold."

* * *

It was well into the wee hours of the morning before Matt and Chester rode into Dodge, long since having lost the trail of the men they sought. The little hairs on the back of Dillon's neck were standing straight up on end even before he spotted the lights in the Longbranch and the tall man hovering nervously in the doorway. He kicked Buck slightly and the horse trotted over to the saloon. Before Dillon could dismount, Sam ran toward him.

"Marshall, I sure am glad you're back..."

Dillon glanced nervously around, "What's wrong, Sam?"

"It's Miss Kitty..."

Matt's gaze bore into the bartender. "What about her?"

"She's not here, marshall."

"Well where did she go?"

"I don't know where she is, no one does. She went upstairs about eleven, said she'd be back down before closing."

"And?"

"That's it, marshall. She never came back down, and when I went up to check on her, she was gone, vanished." Before Matt could ask, the man continued, "There was no sign of any kind of struggle. Her cloak and riding clothes were gone too, so I'm guessing that she went along willingly."

Matt grimaced, muttering, "Well she would if she thought she could help Doc somehow." He looked at Sam. "Her riding clothes, huh..."

"Yes sir."

Matt nodded and turned to his assistant, who was sitting patiently on his horse. "Chester, go stock up on provisions. I'm going to check Kitty's room, and then we're headin' out after them."

"Anything you say, Mr. Dillon."

Chester turned toward the jailhouse and Matt dismounted and walked into the Longbranch with Sam on his heels. Dillon felt his stomach flip-flop: it was now obvious that the intended target of the unknown men was him. The thought of negotiating with scum to keep Kitty and Doc safe seared him with anger; but Matt Dillon knew he'd give anything to keep those closest to him alive, including his own life.


	4. Chapter 4

It was dusk by the time Kitty saw the cabin looming into view, a swirl of smoke rising from its chimney into the approaching night. She followed the man who called himself Rand up to the front porch, and dismounted the horse he had given her. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, feeling the chill of the season. Rand held the door for her and she walked in, quickly assessing the three men playing poker at the table. The tall one was in charge, and she doubted he was as smart as he thought himself to be; the stout man had probably been with the leader for a long time, for he had the ease of a sure friend; and the young one looked nervous - whatever they were up to, he was a greenhorn.

The tall one stood and smiled at her. "Welcome to Bent Creek, Miss Russell, I'm happy to see that the town talk about you bein' so pretty is more than just talk."

Kitty glared at him. "What have you done with Doc?"

He smiled at her. "I hadn't heard that you was rude, bein' a saloon owner and all."

"In this room, I doubt I'll win any competitions for being rude."

He smiled at her, ignoring the barb. "I'm Harley Timmonds," he indicated the stout fellow, "this here's Rolley," then he pointed at the young one, "and that there whelp is my nephew, Marlow." He nodded toward Rand, "And you've already meant Rand."

"I'd say it was a pleasure, but I'd be lying." She glared at him harder. "Where is Doc Adams?"

Timmonds shook his head and sat back down, returning his attention to his cards. Without looking up, he spoke to her.

"The old man's in the bedroom back there, but he ain't feelin' none too pert."

Kitty went to the door, opened it, and caught her breath upon seeing the man lying on the bed. Adams was as pale as a ghost, had on nothing but his pants, and the room was freezing cold. She closed the door, took of her cloak and went to him, covering his chest with the woolen fabric. Kitty removed the blood-soaked cloth around his neck and grimaced at the wound. She brushed a soft hand over his forehead.

"Doc? Can you hear me, Doc? It's Kitty..."

There was no response. Kitty felt the skin of his chest and arms and was alarmed by their icy temperature. Kitty stood and walked purposefully into the next room, disrupting the game.

"I need blankets, a basin with hot water, some cloths, and some wood for the fireplace in that room."

Timmonds didn't look up from the hand he was playing. "That's some order, missy, but I think you should be happy keepin' your hide." His eyes shifted to hers. "Or doesn't that suit?"

Her blue eyes narrowed to slits. "It does not. That man in there is going to die if I don't help him."

"Why should I care?"

"If Doc Adams dies, Matt Dillon'll kill you."

Timmonds laughed. "He won't do that, he's a United States Marshall..."

"If for some reason he doesn't, mister, I will."

Kitty moved into the kitchen and Rand got up, grabbing her hard.

"Let go of me!"

Timmonds laughed. "Let her go, Rand. If'n she wants to try and save that old man, let her. It'll just make it all that much more interesting when the time comes."

Kitty didn't like the sound of something 'more interesting' but she quickly gathered up the things she needed and went back into the bedroom, closing the door soundly behind her.

* * *

Matt pushed on through the cold darkness, with Chester a few paces behind. His heart was chilled with fear, and he tried to keep his imagination from running away with his logical mind, but it was an uphill battle.

"Mr. Dillon?"

"Hmmmm?"

Chester rode his horse up next to Dillon's. "Don't you think maybe we orta bed down for the night? I mean, it's gettin' hard to see, and we might get off the track this way."

Matt's brow cinched in, and he licked his lips. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Let's set up camp under those trees."

The two men remained quiet while they unsaddled their horses, made a fire and put some coffee on. Matt sat down on a rock and opened a can of beans, pouring some out on his plate and some out on Goode's. He handed Chester his plate and they ate in still silence. Chester took care of the dishes and then poured them both some coffee. He handed a cup to Dillon, who stoically accepted it.

"Mr. Dillon...you ortn't to worry so. Ya know ol' Doc's a pretty stout fella when it comes right down to it, and Miss Kitty, well, she's pretty good at lookin' after herself, and well, I just hate to see ya like this, Mr. Dillon..."

Matt looked up into the soft brown eyes that were misted with moisture and he nodded. "I appreciate it, Chester. I just wish we knew how bad Doc was hurt."

Goode took a long sip of his coffee. "There was an awful lot of blood, that's true. But ol' Doc's pretty strong for a man of his years, and if anybody can fight a good fight, it's him."

Matt stared into his coffee cup. "Yeah," was all he said.


	5. Chapter 5

The steady blaze from the fireplace sent a warm glow throughout the small room. Doc was wrapped securely in the blankets she had taken earlier, and the wound on his neck had been cleaned with warm water and dressed in strips she had torn from her petticoat. But his stillness and pallor continued to worry her. Kitty sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed her fingers through his hair.

"Oh Doc I wish you'd wake up and tell me how to help you." She sighed heavily. "I'm so worried about you..."

A scratchy groan uttered from his pale lips. She began to pat his cheek.

"Doc? Come on, Doc. Please wake up for me."

Slowly his eyes fluttered open and he swallowed several times, hard. "Water..."

Kitty wasted no time pouring him some cool water, and holding his head with her hand, she gently poured a small amount between his lips.

"That a little better?"

He nodded slightly, but it was weak. Kitty took his hand gently in hers.

"What should I do, Doc?"

"Bleeding..."

"It stopped."

"Sterilize the wound."

"How?"

"Any alcohol works."

"Whiskey?"

He nodded, and she pat his hand. "You just sit tight for a minute."

Kitty left him for a moment, and he could hear agitated voices, but then she returned with a bottle in hand. She removed the makeshift bandage she had put on his throat, and the cut was bright red.

"The wound's really red now, Doc."

"Early sign of infection."

She poured some whiskey into a cloth and grimaced before setting it down on the cut. Doc cried out with pain, but Kitty gently held the cloth to the infected area. After a few minutes, when it seemed he might pass out, she removed it, and redressed the wound with a fresh bandage. Adams appeared worn out from the effort. She picked up the whiskey bottle and held his head with her hand.

"Here, take a hit of this..." He took a small sip of whiskey, and she gently lay his head back down on the pillow. "Are you gonna be all right, Doc?"

"Don't know." He swallowed hard again. "How much blood did I lose?"

"A lot."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "That's why I feel so weak..."

"I'm just thankful you're still here."

The pale blue eyes opened again in time to see the bright blue rain. "Now don't you do that."

"Can't help it, Doc." He swallowed again painfully and she softly ran her fingers through the errant strands on his forehead. "You just rest for now." He nodded, but didn't close his eyes. For a long time she looked deeply into the sea of pale blue, all the while stroking his head with her hand. "I wish I could take the pain away."

His voice was scratchy, "Ain't that bad, honey."

"Don't fib to me, Galen Adams. I know better."

"I'm not--"

She placed two gentle fingers over his lips. "Shush. Any time you let me fuss over you, I know you feel pretty lousy."

He swallowed hard again. "It don't feel none too good I guess."

"Then stop talking, and get some sleep."

"Who's the doctor here?"

"You are: but I'm the nurse."

"Oh."

She leaned down and kissed him sweetly on the forehead. "Go to sleep."

As his eyes wearily closed, he muttered, "Don't you leave me now..."

She brushed the backs of her fingers across his pale cheek. "Don't you worry."


	6. Chapter 6

Chester began to squirm slightly in his saddle. He and the marshall had been moving at a slow but steady pace and another sunset was approaching. His back ached from all the riding, and his eyes were tired from having to stare so diligently at the tracks on the trail. Dillon's voice startled him.

"Chester, take a look at that..."

Goode followed the lawman's pointed finger to a cabin nestled in some trees. There was smoke coming from both chimneys and unless he was mistaken he caught the faint waft of stew floating toward him.

"That stew sure smells nice..."

Dillon stared at him for a moment, unbelievingly. "Nevermind about the stew, Chester, the tracks we're following head right up there."

Goode's eyes widened. "You mean that's where Miss Kitty and Doc are?"

"Most likely."

"Well Mr. Dillon, what are we gonna do? I mean there's only two of us and judging by the amount of hooves on the ground, we're looking at facing about four men, maybe more if they was already there."

"There's only one way for us to handle this, Chester."

"There is?"

"Uh-huh. You're going to stay outside in the trees, your rifle at the ready, and I'm going in."

"What do you mean 'you're goin' in'? You make it sound like you're gonna walk right up to that there front door and knock and ask for some stew." Dillon smiled slightly. "Oh now, Mr. Dillon, you can't do that. You know them's outlaws up there and they've got Doc and Miss Kitty!"

"Exactly, Chester. They have Kitty and Doc. We can't go in shooting. Look, they didn't try to disguise their tracks, so it stands to reason they wanted us to find them. They wanted _me_ to find them. I don't wanna disappoint them."

"And you'll be in that nice warm cabin eatin' stew..."

One of Dillon's eyebrows raised. "Well if you wanna be the one to knock on the door..."

"That ain't funny, Mr. Dillon."


	7. Chapter 7

The loud knock on the wooden door startled the men playing poker. Timmonds stood, gun in hand.

"Rand, answer it."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because I told you to, now go."

Rand drew his pistol and cautiously opened the door. He about jumped out of his skin when he saw Matt Dillon standing on the front porch as if he were making a social call. Rand leveled his gun at the tall marshall.

"Don't do nothin' fast, Dillon."

Matt shook his head. "Wasn't plannin' on it."

Timmonds moved behind Rand, his gun pointed at Matt's head. "Take off your gunbelt, Marshall, real nice and slow."

Matt glared at the man. "Timmonds. Harley Timmonds."

"That's right, Dillon, now take off your gunbelt."

Dillon did as he was told, and handed the belt to Rand. Timmonds stared at the tall man for a long moment, then waved him inside with his gun.

"Get in here." Matt stepped in and Rand closed the door. Timmonds turned toward Marlow and Rolley. "You two, go check outside, make sure he ain't got no friends."

Marlow and Rolley picked up a couple of shotguns and left the room. Timmonds pulled out a chair for Dillon.

"Sit down, marshall, we have some jawin' to do."

Matt sat down and waited. After staring at him for several minutes, Timmonds finally spoke.

"Six years ago you took somethin' from me, Dillon. Something I can't make up."

Matt thought for a moment and then spoke. "Your brother Donny."

Timmonds jaw set. "Yeah. You killed him."

"I didn't have any choice."

"I was the one who had to choose that day, Dillon. It was Donny, or me and my woman."

"So you saved yourself. A lot of men might make that choice."

"But not you, Marshall, would you..." Matt stared hard at the man, and he continued. "You'd gladly give up your own life rather than choose between someone close to you and your woman." As understanding dawned on Dillon, he swallowed hard. Timmonds stood and held the gun under Dillon's jaw. "I got the Doc and your woman here, Marshall, and you're going to choose which one of them lives, and which one of them dies. And you're going to watch, like I had to, knowin' it was your doin'."

"You harm either one of them, Timmonds, and I swear to God I'll kill you."

Sensing he had pushed under Dillon's skin, Timmonds smiled. "You've got one hour to choose, Dillon. Don't waste none of it." He nodded toward the bedroom door. "They're back there."

"And if I don't?"

"If'n you don't, marshall, I'll kill 'em both."

"You'll kill them both and me anyway, Timmonds."

"No, marshall, I won't." He held Matt's eyes with his own, and Dillon felt the truth. "I give you my word on my brother's grave; whichever one you don't pick will walk outta here alive with you after me and boys is gone."

"You're not going to let me go..."

"That's where you're wrong, Dillon. I want you to live with your decision. I want you to chew on it every day for the rest of your life." He stared hard into Matt's face. "And I promise you, it'll come to haunt you every minute, of every hour, of every day."

Matt swallowed hard as he reached for the handle of the door to the bedroom. There were few options for such a desperate man: and Matt Dillon had never felt as desperate as he did in that moment.


	8. Chapter 8

Chester saw the two men leave the cabin, shotguns in hand. He had planted himself far enough away that he could move on his horse and not be detected. He quickly mounted his mare, and moved to higher ground, leaving Buck in sight for the men. It would be better if they didn't yet know that Matt Dillon had an ace in the hole. In the end, it might be the only thing to save them. Chester dismounted, tied up his horse, and watched as the two men searched the perimeter of the cabin. Finding only Buck, the men were satisfied that Dillon had shown up alone, and after tying up the horse, they disappeared back inside the cabin.

Goode waited until darkness had set in before moving himself back down in the dense foilage next to the house. Near as he could tell, Dillon had been in there for about half an hour, and there hadn't been much movement. The savory scent of stew once again wafted toward him, and his stomach growled. If only the wind were blowing the other way...

* * *

Kitty was asleep, curled up against Doc, who suddenly appeared fragile and old to Matt. Dillon shut the door quietly behind him, and walked over to the bed, gently shaking Kitty's shoulder. She awoke, and without a word grabbed Matt around the neck, burying her face into him. Dillon pulled her into his arms and held her until he no longer felt her shuddering with emotion. Slowly he pushed her away and looked into her wet eyes.

He kept his voice soft, "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Yes, but Doc's not so good."

"Where did they get him?"

"The neck. He lost a lot blood, Matt." Kitty studied Dillon for a moment, and could sense that there was something he was keeping from her. "Matt...what's going on?"

He drew in a large breathe and stepped away. "The man out there, Timmonds... I killed his brother six years ago during a bank holdup."

"So he brought me and Doc out here as bait to get you."

"I wish it were that simple." She frowned and he took her hands in his own. "He wants me to choose, Kitty." He had to look away. "He says he'll kill only one of you if I choose which one."

She tried to keep the fear from her voice, "What happens if you don't?"

"He says he'll kill both of you."

"Oh hell, Matt, he'll do that anyway."

Adams broke in, his voice filled with fatigue, "Matt...it's got to be me."

Dillon sat down and gently rubbed the doctor's shoulder. "It's not going to be either one of you; I'll find a way out of this, Doc."

Adams shook his head. "Matt, I ain't doin' too well, and a few hours one way or the other isn't going to matter, especially if it can save Kitty's life."

Matt's voice belied an unaccustomed fear, "What are you saying Doc?"

"I'm dyin' Matt, and there ain't nothin' to be done about it."

Stunned, Kitty sat on the other side of the bed, and grabbed his hand. "Doc... no..."

He saw the hot tears rolling down her beautiful face, and he felt remorse; but he had to hurt her in this moment in order to save her. Adams smiled sweetly and pitched his voice low, "Don't you cry, honey. I'm too old to lose this much blood is all..." He fought to keep his own emotion in check, and his throat tightened, "Just don't you cry..."

Kitty dropped his hand and quickly stood, turning her back to the two men. She leaned against the nearby dresser, her shoulders shaking with sadness.

Doc, his own eyes filled with exhaustion, turned to Dillon. "See to her, Matt..."

Without a word, Dillon walked over to Kitty and took her in his arms. She clung to him, sobbing.

"Shhh, take it easy, Kitty." He rocked her in his arms until he felt her relax against him, then he gently separated them. "We need to figure this out."

She glared at him, wiping away her tears. "There's nothing to figure out." Her voice remained soft, but caustic, as her anger rose, "He's lyin', Matt. Doc would say or do anything to keep you from having to live with the guilt of choosing him - and he knows you'd have to - and I know he'd say or do anything to keep me alive." She glanced over at the unconscious man, and then back at Dillon. "He's lyin'..."

Dillon had to face up to the truth, no matter how painful. "Kitty, I honestly don't know if I can get us out of this one."

"Then we all go down. But we'll do it together."

Doc's voice was weak, but audible. "No."

She turned to face him. "You're not going to sacrifice yourself, Doc, and that's final."

"Matt, explain to her why this makes sense..."

Dillon sat down next to Adams. "I'm sorry, Doc, but I'm not giving you up either. Not without a fight."

The door opened and Timmonds walked in, smiling. "Well, Dillon? Who's it going to be?"

Before Matt could speak, Doc answered, "It's me, Timmonds." Adams glared quickly at Dillon, a warning to remain silent. "He's chosen me."

Timmonds fixed his gaze on the tall marshall. "That true, Dillon? You've chosen the old Doc here?"

It was as if time had stopped, and Matt could no longer distinguish between reality and the surreal. And Dillon suddenly found himself without words...


	9. Chapter 9

Confounded by Dillon's silence, Kitty stepped toward Timmonds. "You stay away from him! No one has been chosen, you bloodthirsty animal!"

Timmonds smiled at her. "The Doc here seemed pretty sure about it."

"You're damned right," Adams interjected, "we discussed it, and the decision is final."

She couldn't keep the desperation from her voice, "Stop it, Doc!"

Suddenly coming to his senses, Matt grabbed hold of Kitty's arms and pulled her away from Timmonds, and behind himself. "_I_ haven't made any choice, Timmonds. Doc here is mistaken."

Adams allowed a layer of anger to fill his timbre, "Confound it Matt, you know damned well--"

"--Now, now," Timmonds broke in, "it looks like you fellas don't agree a-tall on this here thing..."

Adams voice turned caustic, "The hell we don't. It's me, and it's done. That's that."

Timmonds smiled. "All right then."

The outlaw moved toward Doc, and Kitty screamed. Dillon rushed the man, shoving him into the wall. Timmonds broke loose and hit the marshall across the head. Matt grabbed the man hard by the arm, and Timmonds fired his weapon. Matt cried out and went down, cradling his right leg. Kitty knelt down next to Dillon, and Timmonds grabbed Doc by the shirt, hauling him up roughly. He pointed his gun at Matt.

"Let's go, Dillon."

"Where?"

"Outside, both of you."

Kitty helped Matt up, and putting her arm around his waist, she gently guided him toward the front door. Timmonds practically dragged Adams toward the door, the old man barely able to move one foot in front of the other. After Matt and Kitty stepped out onto the porch, Timmonds roughly shoved the doctor out, sending Adams tumbling face first into the dirt. Kitty reached out for Doc, but the outlaw pushed her out of the way. Matt made a move toward the man, but the gun leveled at his chest stopped him.

"That's far enough, Dillon. Now, I want you and your woman to back up a mite." He held the gun on them until they complied. "Good." He grabbed Doc by the scruff of the neck and pulled him up, causing the old doctor to cry out in pain.

"Stop it!" Kitty screamed, "Don't hurt him!" Matt held onto her tightly, fearing she would try to rush the outlaw and get herself killed. She beat Dillon's chest with her fists trying to break free. "Let me go, Matt!" But the marshall of Dodge held on to her with all his might as she continued to struggle against him.

Timmonds laughed. "I wouldn't worry none, missy, in another minute, this old coot ain't gonna be feelin' no pain nohow." He glanced at Matt. "You make sure you watch this now, Marshall, I'd hate for you to miss any part of it."

Dillon's voice was low and dangerous, "Timmonds, I'm warning you--"

"--You so much as twitch, and I'll kill your woman and this old man." He turned to Adams. "If you haven't already, make your peace, Doc."

Adams glared at him, but said nothing. He then looked at Kitty, sadness and regret for hurting her plainly displayed in his pale blue eyes, along with a deep love unspoken, and she couldn't keep the tears from running down her face. Matt swallowed hard when Adams turned his gaze upon him; but there was nothing in the steel blue that held anything except for a father's pride and a friend's respect. And Dillon was barely able to keep the moisture in his eyes from falling.

Kitty watched in horror as Timmonds pointed the gun at Doc's head and pulled back the trigger.

And there was no time left to consider outcomes.

Matt pushed Kitty clear and lunged for Timmonds. The gun went off, Doc went down and Kitty screamed. Matt and Timmonds struggled for the gun on the ground, pounding each other with their fists. For a moment, Timmonds had the upper hand, but Matt rolled on top of him, pinning the man's hand down, and Kitty thought it was over; but the outlaw kicked Dillon in his wounded leg, and the marshall grunted, losing control of the man. Timmonds pushed his way over Matt, and the big lawman grabbed the man's wrist, keeping the gun barrel from nearing its intended target.

From some distance away, Chester had watched the frightening events unfolding in front of the cabin. Several times he had taken silent aim with his rifle, but couldn't get a clear shot at Timmonds. And now, as Dillon struggled for control of the pistol, Goode found himself without a shot to make yet again. It was then that Timmonds wrestled the gun from Matt and stood, taking aim. Chester fired, the force of the rifle sending him flying backward, dead. Dillon grabbed the gun as Goode stepped out from behind the bushes, just as Rand, Marlow and Rolley came running out of the cabin.

"Hold it!"

But the men didn't heed Dillon's command. Rand fired at Dillon, who lunged behind the horse trough. The three men scattered, and Chester dove toward Kitty, taking her with him behind the well, although she tried to run for Adams.

"Doc!"

Goode took a hold of her and pushed her behind him. "Now Miss Kitty, you can't go out there like that, you'll get killed!"

"We can't leave Doc there... I don't even know if he was hit! Chester, please!"

Chester took aim in the direction of Rolley and fired but missed. Dillon caught the flash of Rand's shirt behind a tree and waited for a moment. The man leaned out to shoot and Matt fired, sending Rand to the ground. Rolley ran from behind a barrel, and Chester fired, watching the man collapse. Realizing he was the only one left, Marlow threw his gun out from behind his hiding place in the bushes.

"Dillon! Dillon, I give up! Don't shoot!"

He came out, and Matt went to him, checking for any other weapons. Kitty ran to Doc, leaning over him, crying.

"Doc? Oh Doc..."

Chester walked toward Dillon. "You all right, Mr. Dillon?"

"I'll be fine. Chester, make sure this one doesn't go anywhere, will ya?"

Goode took Marlow hard by the arm.

"Yes sir, Mr. Dillon." Chester's voice turned soft and filled with fear, "Mr. Dillon, is Doc...?"

"I don't know, Chester," was all Matt could manage to say.


	10. Chapter 10

The blaze in the fireplace warmed the chilly cabin, but only slightly. Dillon sat in a chair by the bed, holding his bandaged leg, silently looking on, while Chester hovered near the end of the bed, wringing his hat in his hands. Kitty sat on the bed's edge, gripping one of Doc's pale hands in her own.

Matt licked his lips before he softly spoke, "Kitty? How is he?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, Matt. Bullet went into his forearm, and while it probably hurts like hell, it isn't bleedin' a lot. But he's still so cold and pale."

"And unconscious," Matt added.

Kitty nodded. "And too weak for Timmonds to manhandle him like he did..."

The fear in Chester's voice reflected the unspoken dread in the room. "Is he...is he gonna die, Miss Kitty?"

Russell bit her lower lip to keep the tears from coming. "I don't know, Chester."

Sensing that Kitty needed a moment, Dillon turned to Goode. "Chester, we're gonna need a wagon to get both me and Doc back to Dodge."

"Yes sir, Mr. Dillon. I was thinkin' on that...I saw one when we passed a farm on the way here, just a few miles back. I'm sure they'd let us borry it if we promise to brang it back."

Matt nodded. "Okay, Chester, why don't you see if you can get it. I'll wait here with Kitty, in case Doc needs something."

Goode nodded. "Sure thang, Mr. Dillon." He turned to go, and then looked back. "Miss Kitty, you keep a careful watch on ol' Doc, now. I'll feel better knowin' your with him."

There was a quiver in her voice, but she managed to say, "I'll do my best, Chester."

Chester quietly closed the door behind him, and Matt sighed deeply before speaking.

"Kitty?"

She didn't face him, and her voice was soft, "Yes, Matt?"

"Can you check my leg for me?"

Recognizing the distraction for what it was, she couldn't help but love Matt Dillon that much more. She gently set down the large, caring hand she'd been holding, and adjusted her seat on the bed so that she could face Dillon. Without a word she checked the bandage she'd put on his leg, and then looked up into his soft eyes.

"It's fine, cowboy. The bullet went clean through, I sterilized it, and the bandage is unsoiled." She smiled very slightly at him. "But then you already knew that."

Dillon grinned shyly. "Guess I just wanted some attention."

She outlined his face with her finger, as a lover would. "Doc's always maintained that you're a tiny bit jealous of him."

Matt chuckled, despite the grim air in the room. "I've always known he'd be my competition if he were about twenty years younger!"

Dillon winked at her and Kitty laughed slightly. "He's been proposin' to me for about that long! He always tells me that I should support him in his golden years, in his rockin' chair--"

Kitty's throat tightened up with emotion, and tears flooded her eyes. Matt put his arms around her and pulled her into himself, holding her closely.

"He's a tough old bird, Kitty, if anyone can pull through this, it's Doc."

"Oh Matt, I'm so scared."

Dillon tightened his arms around her a little more. "Me too, Kitty. Me too."


	11. Chapter 11

Chester carefully guided the wagon down the trail heading toward Dodge. It had been a quiet and in many ways lonely trip since they left the cabin. He glanced briefly over his shoulder, checking on his passengers. Marlow was still securely tied to the back part of the wagon, so that he was facing forward. Matt sat with his back to the buckboard's seat, holding Chester's rifle in his lap, Miss Kitty sitting next to him, with Doc's head in hers. In the twilight just before dawn, Chester couldn't tell who among them might be asleep, other than the unconscious Adams. Feeling an overwhelming emotion rising up when he thought about Doc, Chester turned back around to face the open trail, swallowing hard.

A slight bump stirred Kitty, and she came awake. She glanced to her right, and Matt was dozing, the rifle held securely in his arms, where she admitted to herself, she would rather be. She looked forward to Marlow, who was also asleep, although she wondered how, given that his arms were bound tightly to one of the iron rods of the wagon frame. She gazed down at the man whose head rested softly in her lap, and absently ran her fingers through his thick curls, willing her strength into him.

"We're on our way home, Doc." Her voice grew sad, almost desolate, "We're taking you home."

"Didn'tcha think to bring any blankets?"

Kitty blinked, not believing she heard his voice, then she smiled through the tears that welled up in her eyes. "That your way of tellin' me you're cold?"

"Like an icicle in January."

Kitty elbowed Dillon gently. "Matt, you have an extra blanket next to you? Doc here says he's cold."

The marshall jolted awake, and looked at Russell. "What?"

Kitty smiled. "Doc's cold." She looked over her shoulder. "Chester! Chester, stop the wagon for a second, and hand me a blanket. Doc says he's cold."

The wagon came to an immediate halt and Goode turned in his seat. "Doc? You're okay?"

"I'm _not_ okay for pity's sake, I'm freezing! Is someone gonna get me a blanket, or are ya just gonna make me shiver all the way home?"

Chester reached down and handed back two blankets, which Kitty wrapped around Doc. "Now stop complaining, and get some rest!"

"Well now I will, if you stop fiddling with me like I'm a baby!"

Kitty arched a red eyebrow. "You wanna lean against the marshall here all the way back to Dodge?"

The doctor's face lit with a sour expression. "The hell you say..."

Kitty pulled him a little closer. "Well then, stop complaining!"

Grinning to himself, Doc relaxed against her. "You just let me know when you've made enough money for me to retire to that rockin' chair..."

Kitty laughed in spite of it all. "Honestly..."

Dillon glanced with amusement at the old man, his voice hinting at sarcasm, "Glad you're okay there, Doc..."

The old man mustered as much impish timbre in his voice as his weakened state allowed, "You're just jealous of the seating arrangements."

Dillon laughed heartily, and gently pat Adams on the shoulder. "Well now, you might just be on to something there, Doc." Matt smiled at Goode. "Chester, let's get him home."

"Yes sir, Mr. Dillon!"

He slapped the reins against the horses and the wagon began moving once again. Chester glanced toward the East and watched as the sunrise began to paint the morning sky. He took in a long breath of crisp air and marveled at the shades of pinks, oranges and yellows that began to take flight; they mirrored the warm feeling emanating from within his soul. Chester Goode knew right then and there that there would never be a better day than the one that was beginning today, until the miracle of tomorrow took shape.

The End


End file.
